Creep
by Sheithan
Summary: This is Draco Malfoy's Story. It's his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy and he feels he is the uncrowned Prince of Slytherin. He is weary and troubled though. Something wicked his way comes.
1. The Prince of Slytherin

_Ich bin der Geist, der stets verneint!_

_Und das mit Recht; denn alles, was entsteht,_

_Ist wert, dass es zugrunde geht;_

_Drum besser wär's, dass nichts entstünde._

_So ist denn alles, was ihr Sünde,_

_Zerstörung, kurz das Böse nennt,_

_Mein eigentliches Element._

_- J.W. von Goethe, Mephisto in "Faust" __1_

Chapter 1: The Prince of Slytherin

Sighing, Draco closed the book and lifted his eyes to scan the Hogwarts library. It was already dark outside and shimmering torches only slightly lit up the cold room. There were few students left in the library. Draco saw some second years, and here and there sat several older students with their noses in dusty, old books.

_Idiots! _Draco snorted.

His eyes came to rest upon three figures in the corner. They talked with each other in hushed voices.

_The Dream Team_, thought Draco to himself as he unconsciously slid his delicate fingers over the silver dragon, which was carved into his chest under his grey cotton jumper. He knew there were bruises all over his chest, but just now he did not care.

Saint Potter, the Weasel and their insufferable Mudblood friend. Draco hated the three with a passion. What were they hushing their voices over again, anyways? Draco's stormy grey eyes surveyed Hermione Granger's back. Her long wavy hair cascaded over her small shoulders. If he had not reserved pure hate for her, he might have found her beautiful in a very twisted way. She leaned over to Pothead and whispered something into his ear. They both giggled.

_Ahhhhh, just insufferable!_

Draco stood up energetically. He rushed through the library and placed the book he had been reading on the shelf from which he had taken it. Then he turned around and crossed the room to reach the door. While his footsteps echoed through the room, he took a side-glance at the Dream Team. His bright grey eyes locked on hazel brown ones. Hermione lifted her eyebrows in shock and hastily looked down at her papers again.

_Not that tasteless after all, are we now?_ smirked Draco to himself as he reached the door.

Having left the library, Draco walked down to the dungeons gracefully. He was slender and tall. He had grown quite a lot over the last years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The little, thin blonde boy had turned into a well-grown and beautiful teenager. Not only was he a Prefect, he had also become the Quidditch Captain of the Slytherin Team this year. All of this, though, was not the reason for his popularity with the female population at Hogwarts. He was known and notorious for his success among those of the female gender. It was not just his slender, Quidditch trained, body or his arrogant and proud appearance. It was not only his soft, but yet determined voice or his angelic face. No! It were all of these attributes combined that made Draco Malfoy by far the most popular and adored boy of the whole school. Of course, one could not call him a prince or anything like that, for he wore no crown. Not that he would ever wear one, either.

However, beauty was not his only characteristic. Draco Malfoy was known for detesting all Mud- and Halfbloods. Everybody knew that he would pick on everybody cruelly who only slightly irritated him. On top of that, his father, Lucius, was publicly revealed as a Death Eater and thus a supporter of Lord Voldemort only last year. Of course, everybody now thought that Draco was surely in close connection to Lord Voldemort as well, and just maybe they were not all wrong.

Draco grinned to himself. What did it mean to him that he did not possess a crown? Nothing! It could only be helpful, simply because not being known as the prince meant nothing more than having the power without being known for being the keeper of it. This meant that Draco was adored by the girls, but because he symbolized everything they hated, they would, of course, never confess their secret desires, with the only exception being the Slytherins, maybe. Thus far only few boys of Hogwarts had an idea of what Draco did to their little princesses. And Draco liked it that way.

He had reached the entrance to the Slytherin Common Rooms by now and muttered the password: "Sanguines!" He had chosen the password himself. _Sanguines__2_a word that revealed so much of his life style.

The grey stone wall moved and allowed Draco to pass. He entered the Common Room and was greeted by Blaise Zabini, his best friend. Blaise's dark eyes scanned over him and the ebony haired boy cocked up one eyebrow.

"What's up, Dracie? Has sweet little Pansy confessed her love for you once more?" Blaise laughed, loving to tease his friend about that ridiculous person of Pansy Parkinson.

Draco walked past Blaise.

"Shut it, Zabini!" he hissed dangerously and pushed a first year aside so he could sit on the couch.

Then he looked angrily up at Blaise, whose dark hair hang loosely in his face.

"No need to be bitchy, Malfoy!" said Blaise defensively as he leaned against a table.

"No ... it's okay. I just saw Saint Potter and his ugly little friends. I swear, my father will kill him one day, and hopefully that day will not be too long from now."

Draco's eyes were sparkling in disgust. He thought a moment and then added, "Or else I will!" as an afterthought.

Blaise nodded approvingly, not willing to try his friends temper. "Yeah, someone should really get rid of that git soon. And the Weasel too! God, how I hate him!"

Draco's face lit up a bit. He felt satisfied to have somebody to talk to whose hatred for the Dream Team and Dumbledore matched his own.

Draco stood up and headed towards his and Blaise's dormitory. He gave Blaise a short gesture, indicating the dark eyed boy to follow him. Blaise hesitated at first, doubting that it was wise to follow his bad tempered friend just now, but then came after him willingly.

"Have you spoken to your father yet?" asked Draco after having arrived in their room.

It was an impressive chamber with shimmering, dark green velvet curtains. The floor was made of black marble, and the enormous closets of ebony.

"Yes, but he hasn't been informed yet as to what is going to happen to your father!"

Draco turned around and scanned Blaise's concerned face. "Hmm."

Was it possible that not even the people responsible for Azkaban Prison were informed as to what would happen to Lord Voldemort's most loyal servants?

Draco's thoughts wandered off to the night when his Lucius had left the manor hurriedly to fulfil his duties as a Deatheater. Draco knew now that his father had been sent off to fight Potter and his useless little friends. Draco wondered how his father was doing now, locked up in Azkaban. Would he still be the man that he had been before his departure? That was, indeed, if he ever was to return.

He pulled off his school robes and stretched out on his big four poster bed. He looked at the ceiling and thought about his earlier eye contact with Hermione Granger. Strange how the Mudblood had managed to capture his attention, usually reserved for himself or for his father when he had requested it.

"Have you ever realised that that Mudblood friend of Potter, Granger, has worked out some nice female features?"

Draco looked at his friend who was now seated on the other bed in their room. Draco and Blaise, of course, had the room all to themselves; their parents, after all, owned half of Europe, and India, but who would mention that?

Blaise pulled up his eyebrows in disgust.

"Really, Draco? Are you kidding? You won't earn any points with her, mate!"

Draco gave an annoyed laugh.

"It was only just a small realisation. She stays a Mudblood and a know-it-all, indeed! Do you really think that I would dirty my fingers on such a vixen? Come on Zabini, I have not sunken that low and neither am I that desperate!"

Draco already regretted having mentioned his thoughts about Hermione Granger to Blaise. Without question, this was the only acceptable reaction of his friend. Why did he even think of Granger as being somehow beautiful? It was ridiculous. He hated her. Draco decided not to waste another thought on her and hoped his friend would soon forget his comment about her. Blaise did seem to forget what Draco had said only too soon.

Five minutes after the boys had entered their dormitories, a panting Pansy Parkinson came running into the room. Draco and Blaise were just discussing the last Quidditch match. Pansy looked at the boys and smiled excitedly.

"Draco! There you are!"

Draco looked up and sighed knowing what would come next. Pansy walked over to his bed and sat down next to him, gazing happily into Draco's eyes. He really did not like her very much. She was, indeed, quite nice to look at, and on top of that she was a Pureblood. Her personality however was repulsive. She was always running after him, patting him, claiming him and bawling all over him, pretending to be his girlfriend or something like that twenty-four hours a day. Draco sat up straight at once.

"What's up, Pansy?"

He looked down at his fingernails, finding them surprisingly interesting all of a sudden. Pansy reached out her hand and stroked Draco's hair softly.

_Ughhh, as if I was her hamster, _a silent voice uttered inside his head.

"I've been looking for you all over this place! And where are you? Hiding in your dorm with Blaise again?"

She was bawling once more and Draco rolled his eyes. Blaise snickered maliciously at the scene playing out in from of him.

"Well, yeah, you know? This is my room! The place where I live!"

Draco exaggerated the 'I' in his sentence, but Pansy only looked at him dumbfounded, still smiling widely. Draco observed her face, not believing how stupid she actually was, and then added: "The place I go to when I don't want to be interrupted by anybody!"

Pansy's eyes watered as realization finally dawned upon her.

"You are so mean, Draco Malfoy!" she shrieked and jumped to her feet.

_You are so mean, _imitated Draco in his thoughts, sneering.

She was out of the room in no time at all. As soon as the door was slammed shut, Blaise broke out into loud laughter.

"You are such a lovely person to deal with!"

Draco started laughing as well. It was, after all, a ridiculous situation. He stood up and took his wand out of the pockets of his trousers He tapped a large tapestry hanging in a corner of the beautifully furnished room with it.

"Aparte Armati!" 3

The tapestry coloured and slowly a list of names with numbers next to them became visible. Draco studied this list intently and then gave a hollow laugh.

"I still can't believe it, but you really gave me an eight for Parkinson, Blaise!"

Blaise nodded in agreement.

"She is quite beautiful to look at with her long blonde hair and blue eyes after all. I know guys who'd kill to just have her once!"

Draco smirked. "If they had her only once and got to know her character, they would be more likely to kill her. There's no doubt about that!"

Blaise laughed again. "Yeah, might be!"

He strode over to Draco and looked at the yellowish tapestry as well.

"See? I got a six for that Ravenclaw girl, Padma Patil."

Draco glanced at Blaise in question.

"I mean, most of them are really not worth anything like that. I doubt only one of them deserves more than a three, except Eleanor maybe!"

Draco touched the tapestry once more with his wand.

"Dissimulate!" 4

He absolutely agreed with what Blaise had said. Or did he?

Draco was awoken early the next morning by the shrill sound of his alarm. He threw it down on the floor. This did not help. The alarm was still as loud as before. Draco put his pillow over his head and tried to ignore the noise. That, unfortunately, did not help either, so he finally got up. Blaise was already in the bathroom and as Draco moodily entered, he looked up from doing his hair.

"Good God Draco! You look horrible!"

"Thanks! I love you too!"

Draco splashed some water into his face and then looked at his reflection in the mirror. He really did look horrible. There were thick dark rings under his pale eyes. The last few weeks had been one big, tiresome journey. At last the exhaustion was showing on his usually perfect complexion. He would have to cast a concealment charm on himself later.

The two boys left the dormitory, both completely dressed up and looking positively charming, as always, some minutes later. They walked to the Great Hall and took their seats in the middle of the Slytherin table. As soon as they had sat down, several fifth and fourth year girls of their house took the surrounding seats.

Draco grinned at Blaise and they both started to talk with the girls close to them. Draco had just started a conversation with an exceptionally beautiful blonde, whom he had dated once last year, when his attention was caught by another person. Entering the great hall, Hermione Granger swiftly walked over to the Gryffindor table. She greeted some people that crossed her way and took her usual place next to the Weasel, who was deep in conversation with the infamous Harry Potter.

"Do you really think I should keep my hair like that?"

Draco was pulled out of his thoughts and looked at the questioning face of the girl he had just been talking to.

"Hmm? What did you say?"

The girl looked at Draco, confused. Daydreaming was not exactly typical Malfoy behaviour, or so she thought.

"I asked you if I should keep my hair like that."

Draco checked out the girl. "Yeah, it's cool!"

His eyes flickered back to the Gryffindor table for an instant before he looked back at the girl. _What was her name again? Nelly? Nanny? Nancy? Nancy! Yes, right that was it!_

"Cool?" she asked sceptically.

Draco nodded. "Yeah, well, beautiful!"

The girl smiled happily at Draco now. He, however, wished to get away from her as fast as possible. He sometimes just could not stand all that superficial little small talk. He finished his breakfast early and left the Great Hall sooner than he needed to be on time for classes. His first two hours of the week were Double Potions with the Gryffindors, much to his annoyance. Draco entered Snape's classroom and took his seat in the last row. After ten minutes, the room started to fill slowly. Blaise took his seat next to Draco and pulled out his Potions Essay.

"Why did you leave so fast just now?"

Draco studied his own essay for possible mistakes. He did not look up at his friend.

"I couldn't stand those brainless sheep anymore!"

"Since when do you care about their brains?"

"I don't. I just don't care about them at all, seriously. So they should stop bothering me!"

Blaise laughed. "You're being very moody lately, Malfoy!"

Draco did not listen to what his friend was saying. He had his eyes fixed on Granger. She walked past him and whispered something into Potter's ear: "There's nothing new about him being moody, now, is there?"

"Shut up. you filthy little Mudblood!" hissed Draco after her. He saw Potter's muscles tense.

"Tell me now, Malfoy, what exactly is your problem?" asked Harry, turning around to look back at his long-term enemy.

Draco's eyes sparkled with hatred. "I wasn't talking to you, Scarhead. It was your unworthy Mudblood friend who was addressed!"

Draco chuckled as Harry tried to throw himself at him, but was blocked by Crabbe, who had just entered the room. He knew exactly what to say to make Potter and the Weasel act exactly the way he wanted them to. Crabbe threw Harry to the floor heavily and the other Slytherins cheered. Hermione, meanwhile, was standing still. Her eyes had started to fill with tears as she was staring at Draco wordlessly. Draco felt uncomfortable under her stare.

"Like what you see, Mudblood?"

Hermione immidiately looked away. Draco saw her bosom moving up and down because of her fast and angry breathing. God, how he detested them all. Not that he had ever been able to stand them, but since last year, when they had brought Draco's father into prison, he hated them more intensively than ever before. Harry stood up and was just about to throw an insult at Draco when Professor Snape entered the classroom. Everyone was silent at once. Snape's black eyes scanned the students angrily.

"What exactly has been going on here? Malfoy, explain!" Snape fixed his eyes on Draco.

Draco looked up at his favourite Professor and proclaimed innocently: "Miss Granger and Mister Potter have been insulting me!"

Draco smiled maliciously at Harry, who was struggling to keep his temper down.

"But Professor, that is not--" started Hermione, but she was interrupted by one of Snape's deadly glares.

"As I see you two are already acting out of line again, ten points from Gryffindor!"

With that said, Snape walked to the front of the class and started to put ingredients for their next potion on his table. Draco chuckled as he saw Hermione's and Harry's mouths hang open from the injustice they had just suffered.

"Sit down now, or I'll take another ten points from Gryffindor!" echoed Snape's voice through the classroom, and Harry and Hermione took their seats in front of Draco without even shooting another look at him.

Blaise grinned at Draco approvingly and whispered, "What would life be without them?"

They were already ten minutes into the first hour and Draco was still being strictly ignored by Hermione, who did not even raise her voice when Draco voluntarily spilled spider legs on her robes. Suddenly the door bumped open and Ronald Weasley entered the room, panting. Snape came out of his storage room and shot a deadly glance at Ron, who was trying desperately to regain breath.

"I'm so sorry, Professor! I forgot my books!"

"That'll be another ten points from Gryffindor, then!" said Snape, obviously happy to have found another reason to take points from Gryffindor House. Not that he would not have found reasons without the help of the Gryffindors. Ron sat down next to his friends and they sulked together.

Draco, in a twisted kind of way, considered himself lucky to have classes with The Dream Team. They strolled into trouble constantly, and he only had to lean back and watch everything happen. He did not have too much luck in other parts of his life, on the other hand. He already felt the day could hardly have taken a better turn for him when Goyle passed a little folded paper to him, pointing towards a girl with dark brown hair at the front of the class. _Isn't that the one Blaise shagged only two weeks ago? _he wondered. He unfolded the paper and read what it said.

_Hey Draco_

_I wonder if you'd like to go out with me this evening._

_If so, write back, telling me the time and place._

_Kisses, Parvati Patil_

Draco looked up and surveyed the girl sitting in the front row. He usually did not meet with Gryffindors, but she looked nice, and he wanted a change for once. So he leaned over to Blaise and asked, "Didn't you date Parvati Patil some time ago?"

Blaise shook his head. "It was Padma Patil. They're twins, you know. She was quite cool. I think I'm going to see her again. Why?"

"It's just, well, look at this!" Draco handed the paper over to Blaise, who read through it quickly and then smirked at Draco.

"Well, I'd go for it, mate!"

Draco thought his friend was right. At least Gryffindor girls usually were not as superficial and bitchy as Slytherins. He took the paper and put his delicate, black handwriting under the message of Parvati Patil:

_All right. In the dungeons, statue of Sir Nathaniel de la Port, 07:30 pm_

Carefully, he folded the paper and passed it back to Goyle.

_Well, well, well. This could turn out nicely, _smirked Draco, mischievously.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1 This here is a translation of this particular phrase from Goethe's Faust:

I am the Spirit that denies!  
And rightly too; for all that doth begin  
Should rightly to destruction run;  
'T were better then that nothing were begun.  
Thus everything that you call Sin,  
Destruction - in a word, as Evil represent-  
That is my own, real element.

2 Sanguines - Latin: Blood

3 Aparte Armati - Latin: Reveal Yourself

4 Dissimulate - Latin: Disappear

Review please! :)


	2. The Letter from Home

Chapter 2: The Letter from Home

It was exactly 7:30 when Draco walked down to the statue of Sir Nathaniel De La Port. He turned around a corner, and there she was waiting already.

_She doesn't have this girlish manner of being late then,_ thought Draco, sneering.

Parvati tensed as she heard Draco's footsteps and looked into his pale and somewhat aristocratic face only a moment later. She could see his steel grey eyes flickering all over her body. His intense stare gave her goose bumps. Draco came to a halt only a foot in front of her and fixed his eyes on her face.

"Hey, Draco!" said Parvati as she tried desperately to smile, while keeping her breathing steady.

Draco smirked and evaluated her. He decided he liked his impression of her. Beautiful, shy and seemingly quite intimidated by his appearance.

_Yea, that's something I certainly miss on Parkinson; she doesn't seem to be frightened of me nowadays._

Draco reached out his hand and softly touched Parvati's cheek. She blushed as she took in a sharp breath.

"Why do you want to date me, Gryffindor?" asked Draco calmly and watched her intently, his hand slowly stroking through her hair now. Parvati looked at Draco, surprised.

_Well what does she expect? Draco Malfoy dating a Gryffindor girl without even questioning her once as to why she would do that? _

"Umm," started Parvati with a shivering voice, "I guess it's just because I like you!"

She looked down to the floor. Draco cocked up one eyebrow and studied the girl's face skeptically. Parvati looked up at him for a moment and saw his disbelieving facial expression.

"Well, not exactly like you as a person," she hurriedly added. "I just ... I just think you're quite fit."

Draco smirked. A Gryffindor liking him was as likely as the Dark Lord deciding to only wear pink from now on. A Gryffindor finding him hot, though, was something he could only understand too well. He was after all the sexiest boy in this school, wasn't he?

"I see."

Draco took one step further towards Parvati so that he now stood face to face with her. He could feel her heart racing. Grinning, he leaned down a bit. He brushed her hair out of his way and put his mouth close to her ear.

"What are you planning to do now?" he whispered.

How he loved to play with girls. Their reactions were always so predictable. He knew Parvati's type perfectly. She would pretend to be all shy at first and later she would be all over him like a wildcat, leaving marks everywhere on his perfect body.

Parvati chuckled and stared at her feet.

"I ... I don't know! What do you want to do Draco?" she said coyly.

A wide smile spread over Draco's face. He had been waiting for such an answer. Of course, he knew exactly what he would like to do to her.

_Shag her hard. Shag her slow. Shag her passionately. Shag her senseless!_ a devilish voice said inside his head.

Draco had always expected his angelic self to oppose his permanently present devil self when he was a young child. However, "Angel Draco" just did not seem to exist. Thus Draco explained to himself that he had no other choice than acting upon what his inner evil told him.

"I know just the right thing!" said Draco smirking at Parvati.

He took her hand, pulling her into an empty classroom, which Draco knew was never used by anybody except him and Blaise. In less than a second, he was all over Parvati. He started to kiss her neck, cupping her ass while doing that. He felt her heart racing. She was his prey and he would surely mark her as that. He licked her throat and then bit down. Parvati yelped out loud and Draco moved to hush her cry with his red lips. Parvati accepted his kiss hungrily, darting her tongue out to meet his. She had her eyes closed shut and stroked through his silver hair with her fingers.

Meanwhile, Draco's stormy eyes stared at her intently. He lifted Parvati up and put her on a nearby table. He did not like how she tasted. He barely ever liked how girls tasted. He did not appreciate kissing so much. He surely liked to shag girls. Kissing, though, was one thing he did only because the girls seemed to expect that of him. He could not imagine why somebody would like to have someone else's saliva in his mouth. It did not even feel good to kiss. Draco felt Parvati stiffen under his touch. He did not care though. His hands crept up to feel her firm breasts.

"What the in God's name are you two doing here? I heard someone scream!"

Draco reluctantly withdrew his hands and turned around to see who was speaking, but he thought he already had a good idea as to who it was.

There she was, standing in the doorframe with her bushy hair and amber eyes: Hermione Granger. Her eyes were wide in shock as she watched her roommate and her worst enemy huddled close together in that deserted classroom. Draco stared at Hermione deadly.

"Well, never been in a good snog, Granger?" he snarled. Then he thought about it and added: "Oh, sorry, I forgot you're a Mudblood and ugly too, who'd want to snog you? I suppose even Pothead and the Weasel feel like throwing up when they think about kissing you!"

Draco thought he saw Hermione's eyes water.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" she hissed at him and then rushed right out of the door again.

Draco turned around to turn his attention back to Parvati, feeling positively delighted now. He always felt good after an outstandingly mean insult. Especially when it was directed against one of the Dream Team. Parvati looked at him with blank eyes.

"How can you be so mean to her?" she demanded.

Draco laughed.

"Granger is only a worthless Mudblood plus she's a Gryffindor. She's not worthy of being treated any better!" he snorted.

Parvati cocked up and eyebrow and looked at Draco annoyed.

"Ohh yeah? I'll go ahead and leave then! As you know I am only a worthless Gryffindor too!"

With that she sprang up and hurried out of the room just like Hermione had done not a minute ago. Draco did not try to stop her.

_Damn, yes! She was right! She was a worthless Gryffindor! Why had I even met her in the first place? _

Draco's eyes flickered dangerously. Then he brushed his soft hair back with his hand and made his way back to the Slytherin Common Room.

Draco rushed into his dormitory some minutes later. He was so busy with his own thoughts that he did not even notice that he was not alone. Blaise coughed to get Draco's attention. He was lying in bed with a pretty black haired girl. Draco turned around and mustered his best friend then his eyes locked on the girl next to him.

"Oh, hey Eleanor!"

The girl smiled and her amazingly big green eyes sparkled. Draco knew he was interrupting something there, but he could not have cared less.

"What's bothering you, dear?" asked Eleanor sweetly. Her cheeks were flushed from whatever Blaise and her had been doing. Draco thought she was extremely sexy. He knew why Blaise was meeting her over and over again. She was, after all, a true seven.

"It's nothing in particular!" responded Draco while walking over to his bed. He was so used to denying his feelings that he did not even have to think about it at all. Draco was just about to lie down, when he noticed something bright grey moving in front of the curtains.

"Oh yeah, I forgot", said Blaise. "Your parents' owl arrived about an hour ago!"

Draco's heart did a leap, so it pumped angrily against his chest now. He went over to the owl and took off the letter that was tied to its leg. Softly he patted its feathers.

"Thanks, Loki!"

The owl hooted softly and fluttered its feathers. Quickly, he took off out of the window, which Draco had opened for him. Draco looked after the owl for a moment, wondering what the letter would say. He had not received any message from home since the new school year had started, which was three weeks ago already. Of course, this was because his mother was on her own at home now. It had usually been Lucius who had written to his son every other day, telling him this and that. Draco's father was a cruel and intimidating man, but when one knew how to handle him and did not annoy him, then he could be loving and soft. Draco had not always managed to keep his father satisfied; most of the time, though, he was exactly the son Lucius Malfoy could have dreamt of having.

Draco looked down at the letter and then hurriedly walked over to his four-poster bed on which he sat down while ripping open the envelope. His mother's fine handwriting met his gaze.

_Dear Draco,_

_I am writing in order to tell you what your father's instructions are: You are expected to meet with Rodolphus Lestrange on Tuesday evening, 11 o'clock, behind the Quidditch Pitch. Lestrange will inform you what is further expected of you. You are not a child anymore, son! It's about time you take up some responsibility._

_Sincerely, _

_Narcissa._

Draco clenched his hand to a fist, successfully crumpling the letter, as he felt the anger building up in him. Most of the time, he just did not bother about his mother at all. She was almost non-existent to him. She had been cold and distant ever since he had been a little child. She had never comforted or told him that she loved him, ever. Draco doubted sincerely that she ever would love him the way a mother loves a son.

It had always been his father who had taken care of him. His father had taught him almost everything he knew; his father had told him what to do and what not to do. His father had taken him into his strong arms when he had wept and it was his father's bed that he had crept into when he was a little boy, having horrible nightmares. His mother though seemed to just not care about him. This letter was just typical for her. She had not asked one thing concerning his well-being, not one. She had not told him that she loved him and that she hoped he was doing all right. Of course, Draco had not expected that of her, but the thing was that she had not even signed the bloody letter as his mother. It was this cold and distant name that she had put under a cold and distant letter to her own son. Draco could not believe it.

The thing that made Draco angry and concerned, however, was the content of the letter. A meeting with Rodolphus Lestrange? What was that supposed to be about? Draco looked with dread down at his right arm, which he knew was bandaged under his sleeve. He did not want to meet that git Lestrange. He feared that people would after all claim what he had promised more than a year ago.

Draco looked up and saw Blaise's lips moving. Draco shook his head.

"Huh? What did you say?"

Blaise studied Draco's expression. "I asked what your mother wrote!"

"Uhh, nothing of importance!"

Blaise looked at Draco sceptically. He did not seem to believe him. He knew the blonde boy too well to overlook his worried expression. Draco managed to put a light smile on his face.

"She's just whining about being all by herself again!"

Eleanor started to chuckle at this comment. She sat up, hugging the blanket tight to her naked body.

"My mother is complaining continuously, too, since they've put father into Azkaban! I keep on telling her that he'll be back in no time at all, but it doesn't help."

Draco snorted wearily. Even if Lucius had left a gaping hole in Draco's family life, he wasn't sure whether he wanted him to return. Emptiness was still better than paranoia, was it not?

"Well yeah...you know how mothers act. They're just worried about everything all the time!"

Blaise and Eleanor nodded approvingly.

"Yeah, my mother is even worried when I'm only riding a broomstick!" Blaise snorted, and Eleanor laughed out loud.

"It's so annoying, really! They always have to irritate one with their stupid fussing!" She added to underline Blaise's statement.

Draco laughed bitterly. How he would love to hear that his mother had worried about him. How great would he feel if she forbade him anything, just anything, because she did not want to loose him? Draco did not want to think of this anymore. What did all this mean to him anyways? He did not need anything or anyone but himself to be happy.

The three students sat together for some time and chatted animatedly. It was already late in the night when Eleanor finally got up, dressed and left Draco's and Blaise's dormitory. The boys went to sleep soon after that.

Draco awoke from restless dreams early in the morning. His body was covered in sweat. What had he been dreaming about? He could not remember. Had he not heard someone screaming? Draco looked around. The first morning light was shimmered through the window. Blaise was still fast asleep.

Draco got up and went into the bathroom. He took his shorts off and stepped into the shower. He turned the water on. It splashed down on his marble white skin and slowly warmed up his cold flesh. Draco looked down at himself and stroked his hand over the bluish-black dragon engraved into his chest. Its eyes were flashing yellow sparks today. It was not a magical tattoo altogether, only the eyes of the beautiful long winged dragon were bewitched. They sparkled in all kinds of different colours, indicating Draco's condition. Draco loved this tattoo. He loved dragons. They were powerful and the keepers of love; at least in his understanding they were. Other people only feared and dreaded them. Draco, though, saw their unique beauty, and he felt dearly connected to that dragon engraved on his chest. He did not even remember how it had gotten there. His father told him one day that the tattoo was to be the keeper and leader of Draco's soul. It would carry him away from all perils on its wings. Lucius believed that everybody needed a patron to save oneself from all perils. He had decided that in this case it had to be the dragon; it just fitted best.

_It had been the right decision_, Draco thought.

He took some more time washing his delicate body and then got dressed. He went to eat and then to classes. The day passed fast; too fast for Draco's tastes. He was not looking forward to the meeting this evening. Having to meet up with Rodolphus Lestrange could not mean anything good. No, probably not.

Draco crossed Parvati Patil's path sometime during the morning. She did not even look at him. She kept her eyes down and hurried along the corridor.

Draco sneered contemptuously. _Stupid little prat! Has Granger convinced you that I am not good at all for you after all?_

Draco laughed silently. _She would have been proven right, believe me!_

With that, Draco carried on until finally the sun was slowly disappearing behind the horizon.

Draco knew it was time to get ready. He had hoped for something fortunate to happen, like an earthquake or a thunderstorm; anything like that would have been okay with him. He had no luck whatsoever. He had to face it after all. There was no way getting around this meeting with Lestrange, no matter how unwilling he was to admit it.

Thus Draco finally headed out of the castle. It was a quarter to ten, which meant it was only fifteen minutes until curfew. He knew indeed that he was more than an hour early for the meeting with his father's friend. But how was he to slip out of the castle past ten?

Draco was cloaked in a heavy long wizard's robe, which kept him comfortably warm. He hurried to get away from the main entrance. He did not want to be seen and dragged back into the castle now. It was already growing dark outside and this made Draco vanish into the night quite soon.

He slowed his pace and finally started to relax a bit, when he heard someone breathing over at the trees to his left side. He stopped and stood still, unwavering in the dark night. He even held his breath in fear of getting caught. He tried to make out who was standing there in the near darkness, but it was of no use. His eyes could not see a single thing apart from black, dark black and even darker black.

The breathing stopped abruptly. Draco was sure he had been caught and felt his body shudder.

_I must not miss this meeting!_ he thought desperately as he waited for someone to approach him and point a wand into his face, muttering 'Lumos'.

It did not happen. Draco was confused after a minute of waiting, and turned around to see if maybe someone was standing right behind him.

As he turned, he heard a twig break and saw a head of bushy hair disappearing into the night.

"Granger!" he muttered under his breath.

What was she doing out of the castle this late? Alone, at that? She had surely seen him. Draco was positive of that. She had tried to steal away from being seen by him; there was also no doubt about that. Now she knew that Draco was out in the grounds after nightfall and she would go blabbing it to Potter and Weasley.

_This isn't good,_ decided Draco. He would have to take care of her later. For now, only the meeting mattered.

Draco hugged the cloak closer around him and made his way towards the Quidditch Pitch. Restlessness was settling in his heart. He did not like this at all. He felt he was being followed and took nervous glances to his sides.

_Draco, you're being paranoid again!_

In a distant place of his soul he caught a silent voice responding to his thought.

_Not being paranoid doesn't mean they're not after you, dear!_


	3. The Meeting in the Dark

Author's Notes: Special thanx go to my fabulous beta readers! Hugs Riyo for her encouragement and her great proposals. Hugs Luinaiwen for her outstanding and detailed betawork; you made all this so much more realistic and emotive. Hugs Nabiya for her final spelling corrections.

I could not write this story without people like you. You were great:)

Thanx go to my two reviewers, Hermione at Twenty-four MerndaSaysDownWithWormtail. Here you finally go and see more of Draco ... and Hermione, of course.

-

Chapter 3: The Meeting in the Dark

It was half past ten when Draco finally arrived at the Quidditch Pitch. The golden stars sparkled in the sky. The moon was nowhere to be seen.

_That's why it is so dark tonight._

Draco pulled his eyes away from the sky and desperately tried to distinguish anything in the darkness surrounding him, but there was no one there. Only the tall goalposts of the Quidditch pitch silhouetted against the star-spangled sky, like giant Gods from long forgotten days. A rustling murmur went through the trees of the Forbidden Forest as if they were laughing about the destiny of men. Draco was not surprised to find nobody out here yet; Death Eaters were always on time. He sat down on a trunk and tried to calm himself down. He had to represent the pride and honour of the Malfoy family. Lestrange should not see him in this vulnerable state of mind.

Draco closed his eyes and concentrated on who he was.

_Pull yourself together, Draco!_

This place was strange at night. There was no cheering laughter from the students that could have distracted him from what he was soon to face. No girls sat on the green — now shimmering — black grass, waiting for the next Quidditch match. Nobody was crying or complaining about a lost book or a bleeding wound to the teachers. Nothing, in fact, indicated that this place was crowded with people in the daytime. Draco seemed to be alone with the elemental forces. It was as if he had stepped back in time and entered a world in which the Gods actually still ruled the world; a time in which men had still looked up to powers beyond them; a time in which they had not committed the fatal hubris yet.

A cold breeze blew through Draco's hair and he started to shiver slightly. He did not know how long he had been sitting there motionless, when a rustle of robes pulled him out of his thoughts.

Draco sprang up and turned around. A few feet away stood a hooded and cloaked figure with a broom in his hand. Lestrange was only slightly taller than the blond boy. Draco swallowed nervously and could feel his pulse running at a mile a minute — he had not even noticed Lestrange's arrival.

_You're Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's son! Now act like it!_ He told himself fiercely.

The cloaked figure lifted his hand to his head and pulled the hood from his face. Draco stared at him.

Rodolphus Lestrange was a thin and pale man with long, dark brown hair. His big, green eyes had a mad flickering light in them as a consequence from his years in Azkaban. An ugly scar ran from his forehead down to his brow. Draco thought Lestrange could have been beautiful, had he not looked so thin and worn out.

Rodolphus Lestrange stepped towards Draco and nodded politely. "Lucius' son!" he drawled.

Draco tried to smile and nodded in acknowledgement. He felt sick and had the temporary longing to turn on his heel and flee into the Forbidden Forest.

Lestrange put his hand into the pocket of his cloak, obviously searching for something, his eyes glittering in his mask-like face.

"Well, your father has sent me to inform you about his present situation and about your duties."

Lestrange stared into Draco's eyes without blinking, making the Death Eater's son feel very uncomfortable.

"Furthermore, he wanted me to hand this to you!" With that Rodolphus Lestrange pulled out a small package, which was wrapped in grey fabric. He passed it over to Draco, and the blond boy took it from his hand, stuffing it quickly into the pocket of his robes. He already knew what it was and was more than relieved to have finally received it.

"Take only one each day, not more!"

"I know!"

Draco shivered. He felt the chill of the night air creep into his robes.

"What are father's instructions concerning me then?"

He wanted to get this 'appealing' conversation over with as soon as possible.

Lestrange's eyes flickered.

"Slowly boy! I'll inform you about everything you need to know, don't worry!"

Draco felt worse by the minute. It was as if the darkness was closing down on him, just like a noose tightening around his throat. He brushed the hair out of his face with a cold, yet sweaty hand, and tried to keep his composure. His eyes were fixed on the wet ground.

"Yea, right." croaked Draco.

An ugly smile crept onto Lestrange's face. He must have sensed how nervous the young son of Lucius Malfoy really was and probably remembered how Draco had acted some years ago when his father had been at his side to protect him.

"Well." Lestrange paused for effect and Draco looked up. "As I already mentioned earlier, your father has sent me to inform you about his unfortunate present situation. He is still locked up in Azkaban prison, and he does not see any chance to get out of there soon."

The frosty wind hurt Draco's eyes and made them water.

Looking lazily at Draco, Lestrange continued, "He and my other locked-up-companions will get out of there one day, though. The Dark Lord will see to that personally. They are of too much use to rot behind locked doors."

_Yeah, right, they are useful murderers ... I forgot._

Draco felt as if he was standing in front of a void. A deep, black void that seemed to steadily grow around him. He felt as though someone was pulling him down. Or was Draco pushing? Quickly, Draco snapped out of his thoughts.

Lestrange had stopped speaking and looked at Draco with interest. Draco suddenly had the distinct impression that Lestrange had been reading his thoughts.

"Umm, how do you keep contact with Lucius anyway?" he hurried to ask.

Lestrange cocked up an eyebrow sceptically.

"That is of no worry to you. I have my ways of communicating with certain people."

Draco wanted to interrupt Lestrange, but the brown-haired man gestured for him to be quiet.

"I am not here to tell you about the information system of us, servants of Lord Voldemort!"

"Then why are you here?" snapped Draco, unable to control his temper.

Lestrange's eyes flickered dangerously. "I am here to inform you that your services will be asked for soon."

Draco drew in a deep breath. His heart was pumping very fast now. He felt like he was falling. Cold sweat was covering his face.

"What kind of services?" he asked anxiously.

"Services that will prove whether or not you are worthy of staying within our midst. You'll know when it is time for you to make use of what you have been trained for."

"But how will I know?" Draco felt very vulnerable. What would they want him to do? And when?

Lestrange laughed wearily.

"Don't be so keen to find out, boy. You might regret it!"

Lestrange pulled the hood of his cloak back up over his head. Draco watched him. He did not dare to speak up again. He knew that this man would only tell him what he was supposed to know; it was not exactly in the nature of a Death Eater to disobey his orders. Draco swallowed heavily. Lestrange looked at Lucius' young son for the last time.

"Farewell," he muttered, and then he mounted his broomstick.

Lestrange vanished into the cold night air within seconds. Draco stared into the darkness after the Death Eater. He was relieved that the meeting was finally over and became aware of how cold his body felt. He turned around slowly and started to walk towards the castle. His legs felt limp and his head was dizzy.

_Geez, Draco. Are you really that afraid?_ He asked himself angrily. _Malfoys aren't afraid! Stop it you idiot!_

Draco wondered what his future had in store for him while he was crossing the castle grounds. He had the strange and distinct feeling that it would not be him pulling the strings of his fate. It would not be him deciding whether his soul was awaiting salvation or doom. Draco felt helpless. The dragon on his chest burned and Draco knew the dragon's eyes were flaming red now.

Slowly the main entrance of the castle came back into view. The slender boy stopped and his keen eyes scanned the scenery. There was nobody there. He should make his move now. Draco started to run to the main entrance. He was careful not to make any sound while his body moved cat-like and soon he vanished into the castle.

Draco arrived at his dormitory at a quarter to twelve. He had slipped through the corridors and the Slytherin Common Rooms undetected. Everybody seemed to be asleep already. Draco silently pulled open the door, stepped in and turned around to close it again. A faint light was still flickering inside the room and Draco could see that Blaise was sitting on his bed writing something into his diary. His rather long, black hair fell over his eyes, and his full lips muttered the words he was writing under his breath. He lazily looked up when he realised that Draco was watching him.

"Where have you been?" Blaise's big, black eyes scanned Draco's cloaked body.

Draco hesitated momentarily, wondering whether his friend deserved to know the truth. He stroked his soft hair back and then made eye contact with Blaise.

"I was meeting Rodolphus Lestrange!"

Blaise looked surprised. Or was it a worried expression? He closed his diary and put it under his blue satin pillow. His long fingers started to stroke up and down his arm.

_Stupid habit_, Draco thought.

Moments passed before Blaise finally raised his voice. Out came only one simple, but still sharp word. "Why?"

Draco lowered his eyes at once. He walked over to his bed and stepped out of his cloak.

"My mother told me so!"

Draco heard his voice as though it was someone else who was speaking. _So weak and powerless. _He was turning his back on Blaise now. He did not want to look at his friend. Draco lifted his jumper over his head and unbuckled his belt. He opened his trousers and then pushed his clothes under his bed carelessly. The house-elves would tidy this up the other day.

"What did Lestrange say?"

Draco wanted this conversation to end, regretting that he had started it in the first place. None of this was Blaise's business anyway, was it?

"Nothing you should know!" he snapped as he lay down on his bed looking up at the ceiling. His hand felt for his dragon tattoo. It was burning again.

"Come on Malfoy! Don't be so secretive!"

Blaise was facing Draco, now. He looked annoyed. He was after all Draco's best friend and they told each other everything.

_Almost everything, _thought Draco, _or maybe, not that much, after all?_

It was true. Blaise was Draco's best friend. This, as a matter of fact, did _not_ characterise their relationship, though. There was one very good and simple reason as to why Blaise was the person closest to Draco. There were no other people he could have a decent relationship with. Crabbe and Goyle? They had no more IQ than a slice of bread. Draco was positive about that. Pansy Parkinson? Draco could not stand her. She was like some horrible music that one just could not switch off, no matter how hard one tried. Overall there were not many people that Draco found acceptable in Slytherin house. Besides that the other houses were far below him, of course. Thus he had made friends with Blaise.

Draco did not regret his decision, even if Lucius _would_ rather have seen him being best friends with sons of other Death Eaters, such as Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise's father had never been a Death Eater, but his family was still rich and pure-blooded. The Zabinis had never been part of the inner circle of the Dark Lord, but they had always supported his ideas. Draco was not sure what opinion Blaise had concerning Lord Voldemort. He knew that Blaise, indeed, detested Mudbloods just like he did and that Blaise also cared a lot about power and money and he would rarely snog a girl that was not one-hundred per cent Pureblood, but the two boys had never spoken about their positions regarding Lord Voldemort; not really anyway. Draco did not think it would be wise to further talk about his meeting with Lestrange to Blaise. _No, this is something that only concerns yourself!_

"I'm not being secretive", snarled Draco, dangerously. "Don't stick your nose into other people's business!"

Draco turned his back to Blaise. "And turn the lights off; I am trying to get some sleep!"

Draco was relieved when Blaise did not speak up again. He heard his friend lying back down and only seconds later the lights were out. Draco lay in the dark, eyes wide open.

He did not like the dark. He could not stand the silence that nightfall usually brought. Darkness had the strange ability to disconnect one from the world. It gave way too much room for over-thinking and over-analysing one's own life. And what was Draco Malfoy in this world? Small and meaningless he was. A shadow of his former self. A restless ghost striving through eternity to find peace. A lost soul tumbling towards its own damnation. The dark was a reminder of how short and unimportant people's lifetimes were compared to eternity. What did humanity mean to the fate of the universe?

Draco felt sick. He desperately tried not to listen to the silent, but persistent voice inside his head. A quote by William Shakespeare popped into his mind. Indeed, Shakespeare had been a Muggle, but when Draco had secretly read his works as a little child, that old, dead Muggle had seemed much more than that. He had been a soul mate when all others had faded.

"Like flies to wanton boys are we to the gods, they kill us for their play," Draco whispered.

A smile crept over his face as he took in the full meaning of this sentence.

"Pure cynicism," Draco snorted.

And pure cynicism is what Draco Malfoy really was. He felt lost and lonely, but went out to snog every girl that would pass his way, as long as they had nice tits and a beautiful bum. This, of course, only made him feel more lonely and it sickened him. It was not like he did not like or want what he was doing, but whether it was good, or whether it would keep his soul alive, Draco could not tell. He was not nice, nor did he care much about other people. He was not innocent and he was the one that made his own choices, but who was he after all? And what did his decisions lead to? Was he happy with what he had in his life? Draco closed his eyes. He fell asleep with one final and desperate thought.

_I don't want to be lonely. I just want to be alone._

Draco had a strange dream that night. He dreamt that he was at some mysterious wizards' meeting. Everybody wore black cloaks, including Draco himself. Uneasily, he realised that he was a Death Eater and that the man in the centre of the circle was the Dark Lord himself. Voldemort was asking Draco to come forth and hand to him the information that Draco had received from Dumbledore. He tried to walk over to the hooded creature, but his feet would not move. He was fixed to the place and every time he tried to move forward something else seemed to pull him back. Draco turned his head around and found bloody Hermione Granger hanging onto his robes. She was pulling him back. Strange as it was she was wearing a violently pink rabbit costume and she was smiling at Draco happily.

_What the heck is she so cheery about? This is a meeting of Death Eaters!_ Draco thought angrily as he tried to push her away. She would not let loose, though, and Draco was shocked to find out that he was wearing a rabbit costume as well.

Draco awoke panting. He looked around and was relieved to find out that neither the Dark Lord nor Hermione Granger was anywhere to be seen. What had that been all about? Draco shook his head. Was he going mad? Why did he dream about Granger and Voldemort in one and the same dream? Draco brought his hand to his face and rubbed his forehead. He did not feel well and reached out for his nightstand, rummaging in one of the drawers. _Where are they? Need them ... need them now! _Draco calmed down when he found what he had been searching for and went back to sleep soon afterwards.

The next morning came soon; too soon for Draco's taste. He had difficulty in getting out of bed and was late for breakfast. Even his hair did not look as perfect as it usually did. Draco only managed to stuff a piece of toast into his mouth before hurrying off to his Ancient Runes classes. He did not even have time to greet Crabbe and Goyle, who were grunting about some joke that Montague had apparently been telling them.

Thus Draco Malfoy sat down in the last row of the Ancient Runes classroom only ten minutes after he had left his dormitory. It was a very small room, since there was usually not more than ten people in a class. There were big windows on the left side of the room through which faint daylight filtered and on the right side the wall was plastered with posters. Posters written in Ancient Runes explaining how to read Ancient Runes.

_Stupid really,_ snorted Draco as the classroom started to fill with students.

There were no other Slytherins taking this subject in Draco's year, but that had never been an argument for Lucius Malfoy to let his son enter another subject. Draco had given in to his father's wishes after a nasty discussion as he always did, and went to his Ancient Runes' classes ever since third year. He was surprised to find he liked it too. Draco had found some kind of fascination for the ancient myths of the old Germans over the years. He loved their idea of Yggdrasill, the world tree, in which the worlds of the humans, the giants, the elves and the gods were united. He loved to read about Jormungand, the Midgard Serpent and he loved to read of Ragnarok. The ancient Germans had believed that Ragnarok was the time in which the world would face its doom. The sun would stop shining, the stars would fall from the sky and the world would sink into the depths of the ocean. The world would simply burn. Draco did not know why he was so into the stories about Ragnarok. Maybe it was some dark longing to see his own world shatter until nothing was left standing besides the walls of its foundation.

Draco snapped out of his thoughts when a girl with bushy, brown hair rushed past him and seated herself in the front row. Draco's eyes fixed on her. It was strange to see Hermione Granger after dreaming about her only last night. She looked arrogant and stubborn.

_Just like always,_ Draco thought.

He hated her and her perfect little Gryffindor friends with a passion he could not seem to muster for anybody else. Draco's eyes had narrowed to slits whilst watching Hermione, like a madman that was about to kill, and he did not even realise that Professor Monde had started the lesson.

"Mr Malfoy! Mr Malfoy? Would you be so kind as to present your translation of the part of the Hyndlasong that we have not yet discussed in class?"

_Does that old weirdo really think I am going to pay more attention to his classes when he makes me read out my homework? _Snorted Draco inwardly.

The voice of the old and somehow confused looking professor sounded stern. He wore shabby wizards' robes with pink flowers on them. He looked stupid really. His light, grey hair was unkempt and fitted into his appearance perfectly.

Draco looked up at him. "Uhm?" He cocked an eyebrow, paused, and then said confidently, "Fine Professor!"

Draco fetched the Ancient Runes parchment out of his bag, cleared his voice, and started to read out loud:

"The ocean rises to the heavens in the storm.

The lands are swallowed, the air is cold.

Masses of snow come with the dead-icy winds.

But rain shatters the council of fate.

Brothers are fighting and falling in war.

The bands of blood break the sons of the sisters,

The world faces doom, indecency there is –

Axetime, Swordtime, the shields are breaking,

Windtime, Wolftime, ere the final end comes

No men will spare his brother and

From the heights the Almighty one descends.

Come forth Ruler to the highest of courts.

Thou one God, thou greatest in might

Never dare I utter your name and

Only few will be seeing what further will come:

When the One and the Wolf finally fight." 1

Draco finished his reading by smirking at Hermione Granger whose mouth had fallen open wide while listening to his almost perfect speech. She looked away immediately when their eyes locked.

Professor Monde observed Draco with a definite expression of surprise, hesitated, and then clapped his hands frantically. "Very, very well done Mr Malfoy! That was, indeed, very good!"

Draco smiled at the man widely and said in an arrogant tone, "Thank you Professor!"

_God, I am such a snob!_ He thought to himself, sneering.

"You _indeed_ have a talent with languages, boy!"

Professor Monde stopped praising Draco for his extraordinary homework when the blond boy announced self-confidently that he just was a natural talent and unbelievably bright too.

Hermione snorted disbelieving, obviously disgusted with the extent of Draco's narcissism and Professor Monde carried on with his lesson without mentioning Draco again. Everything went extremely well until Professor Monde started to put the students into pairs. All blood left Draco's face when he heard whom he was going to be paired with.

"Mr Malfoy, you are going to work with Miss Granger," declared their teacher without even looking up from his list once.

Hermione stared at Draco wide eyed. She was blushing, horrified. Her hand sprung into the air at once.

"Professor Monde? Professor Monde? Would it be possible to pair me with somebody else? Padma Patil maybe?" her voice sounded pleading, though determined.

The grey haired man looked up from his papers and observed Hermione.

"Miss Granger, Miss Patil is already paired with Miss Turpin, thus you will have to work with Mr Malfoy. I doubt that there will be any problem!"

_Ohh, I do,_ snorted Draco to himself.

When Hermione looked as if she was about to tell her Professor exactly which problems she saw in working with Draco, the old man put on a stern expression and ended the discussion.

"Period!"

Hermione threw Draco an annoyed glare. Then she gathered her things and walked over to his table, on which she placed her books. She sat down next to him without looking into his eyes once. Draco watched her partly amused, partly annoyed himself, twitched his eyebrows and leaned back.

"Well, let's get started then!" Hermione said while she opened a book, searching for the right passage. She pretended that she did not notice Draco staring at her, and he observed that her ears had turned a funny shade of pink.

Draco leaned forward. There was one thing he was determined to find out before he was getting on professional terms with her.

His mouth was close to her ear so that nobody else could hear him when he sneered, "Why were you spying on me, last night?"

Hermione gasped. Draco saw her back stiffening. She hesitated and then whispered without turning to look back at him.

"Erm, I wasn't spying on you!"

"Ha!" Draco said out loud, but he hushed his voice quickly when he realised that everybody in the room was looking at him as if he was mentally retarded. "Then you admit that you were outside on the school grounds after curfew last night?"

Hermione's face turned a violent scarlet when she recognised that Draco had tricked her.

"I was not spying on you Malfoy!" she snapped. "Believe it or not, you are not someone ..."

She obviously thought about it and corrected, "... something I'd waste my free time on!"

Draco clasped his heart with his hand melodramatically.

"Ahh. That hurt, Granger."

Hermione looked at Draco for the first time while sitting next to him. Her hazel eyes were on fire.

"Shut up Malfoy, you spoiled git!" she hissed and then turned back to her books.

Draco's face froze. _What did hat Mudblood just call me?_

He tightly clasped her wrist under the table and pulled her toward him. Hermione whimpered.

"Don't you dare spy on me again. If I should ever find you close to me on the school grounds after curfew from now on, I promise that you'll live to regret your decision to be out there!" Draco's voice sounded deadly.

Hermione fought to free her wrist, but Draco was much stronger than her.

"Do you understand me, Granger?" he hissed leaning yet closer to her.

"Sod off, Malfoy!" Hermione said firmly, but quietly.

Draco's grasp tightened at once and he heard Hermione taking in a breath from the pain he was causing her.

However, in the next second Draco himself felt a stinging pain souring through his leg. He let go of Hermione's wrist and held his leg.

"Fuck!"

Hermione had kicked him, witty as she was and he had screamed out loud.

The attention of the whole class was drawn to the two students at once. It was really a miracle that nobody had noticed their little fight until now, but then again Draco and Hermione were seated in the last row and everybody else had their backs towards them.

Everybody was expectantly looking at Draco, whose usually white cheeks had turned into a light shade of pink.

Professor Monde studied the blond boy from under his thick glasses and asked, "What was that Mr Malfoy?"

"Uhh. Nothing professor! I just hit my leg on the table!" Draco hurried to say.

Then he turned to Hermione and shot her an icy glare. She smirked at him self-satisfied and went back to study the open pages in front of her.

Draco could have sworn that he heard her mumble, "serves you right," under her breath, but he did not dare to start another argument.

He tried hard to keep his composure during the last twenty minutes of the lesson, but was very relieved when he was finally released from Hermione Granger's insufferable presence.

_Totally fucking full of herself!_ He thought while striding back to his dormitory.

-

1 This is my free translation of the German version of the "Hyndlalied".

Author's Notes: So I hope you like Chapter 3. The action is going to start soon ... Please leave a review:) I need and love them.


	4. The Haunting Memory

Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me. Belongs to JKR, you know.

Author Notes: Thousand thanx go to Luinaiwen and Riyo, my two wonderful betas. You may find them in the dictionary under 'the best'! ;)

To my readers: Please, please, please leave a review if you like this story. I get sad, when nobody reads and reviews what I've sat on for hours. :'S

Everybody who wants to be informed when a new chapter is up, please leave a review with your email address.

Chapter 4: The Haunting Memory

**Important!**

To all Students attending Ancient Runes,

We are glad to inform all students attending Ancient Runes that there will be a field trip to the Scottish Highlands on the 1st of November. The trip will last seven days and Professor Monde will be the escort during the week. All students are expected to be ready for departure at exactly 8 o'clock on Monday morning November 1st. If you have any questions or concerns, please direct them to your Head of House or Professor Monde.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress 

Draco was not exactly amused upon reading the note which was pinned to the notice board of the Slytherin Common Rooms. A students trip to Scotland was not entirely – or really not at all what the blond boy considered to be 'great fun'. What made everything worse, though, was the prospect of who was going to be on that trip other than Draco. Hermione – filthy Mudblood – Granger!

Draco could not believe his luck and pondered if fate could possibly have played a nastier trick on him, only to come to the conclusion that his family was permanently there to make him even more miserable. Sighing he looked down at the letter which he clutched tightly in his hand. His cloudy eyes flew over the delicate handwriting of Narcissa Malfoy, reading her letter once again.

_Dear Draco,_

_Tonight. Same place. Same time._

_Sincerely, _

_Narcissa_

Draco closed his eyes and swallowed. He felt sick. A meeting never meant anything good, but Draco was especially worried this time around because Narcissa was so very vague, obviously fearing that the letter could be read by somebody else than her 'beloved' son.

"Beloved son," muttered Draco bitterly, crumpling the letter in his hand before throwing the parchment into the fireplace angrily. It caught fire and slowly turned into smoke and ashes. Looking at his watch Draco realized that he had to hurry if he did not want to be late for the meeting. Thus he grabbed his cloak and got up from his bed.

Almost an hour later, Draco stumbled over the dark grounds back to school. He coughed and tried to keep his breathing steady. A piece of parchment that explained how to cast the Shield Charm was deep in Draco's pocket. He was not worried about the charm itself or the task in hand. After all, _he_ would not be washing his hands in blood.

He would only help other people to do so, standing at their sides, watching as life left countless, innocent bodies.

Draco shook his head, trying to get rid of his uncomfortable thoughts. Lestrange's face came back to his mind. The way he had smiled nastily upon telling Draco about their horrible plan. The way his eyes had flickered with joy at the prospect of murdering, of tearing flesh apart. It sickened Draco. How could anybody enjoy the act of taking somebody's life? Could they not see themselves in the ones they murdered? Did they not see their own fear reflected into the eyes of their victims as life slowly left them? Draco would always make himself scarce when the massacres in his father's dungeon were nearing their end. Avoiding seeing those bodies die on the wet and dirty stone floor somehow helped the idea that he himself would never decay, never fade, never be forgotten. Draco knew he was foolish, believing that he, unlike everybody else, was immortal. Naivety was a cheap price to pay for sanity, though.

A rustling of leaves pulled Draco out of his thoughts. He stood still and tried to make something out in the darkness. His heart pumped angrily against his chest in the fear of being caught, but when he saw who was stumbling out of the forbidden forest, he stepped behind a tree, waiting for the figure with the bush of brown hair to make his way past him. Hermione did not seem to have noticed the lean boy. She was breathing loudly as she drew nearer and nearer. _Like a bee flying willingly into a spider's web, _thought Draco amused

Hermione was close now and as she took another step in Draco's direction he jumped out of his hiding place, grabbed her by the arm and pushed her back against the nearest tree. She shrieked out loud and Draco pressed his hand on her mouth, as her eyes grew wide in recognition.

"What are you doing out here, Granger?" he sneered, his eyes flashing down at her madly.

She made an odd sound and Draco realized that his hand was against her Mudblood lips. He withdrew it at once and wiped it off at his cloak. Hermione gasped for air and then pushed Draco off her. She stuck her hand into her pocket obviously searching for her wand. Draco was faster though. He grabbed her wrists and held them above her head.

"Careful, you wouldn't want to hex me, Mudblood, would you now?"

Hermione glared at Draco, ripe to kill. "Let go of me, Malfoy or ..."

"Or what? You are going to hurt me? Slight chance." Draco grinned as his gaze wandered to Hermione's wrists. "What have you been doing out here?" he asked.

"It's none of your business, Malfoy!" spat Hermione out disgustedly.

"Have you been spying on me?"

"What? Why? To catch you in a compromising position with Crabbe and Goy...?"

Draco cut her off before she could finish her sentence. He grabbed her by the neck and came even closer, so that his chest was pressed against her heaving bosom.

Hermione's eyes watered as Draco tightened his grasp on her neck. She looked up at him and for the first time in the many years he knew and hated her, she looked fragile and almost scared. He saw the moon reflected in her hazel eyes and then he saw his own reflection in them. A hard and angry face; cold eyes, clenched jaw.

"Lucius?" he whispered almost inaudibly as he let go of Hermione, who used his vulnerable moment to snatch her wand out of her pocket and point it at his face.

"What are you so scared of?" she snapped as Draco stared at her emptily.

"Honestly, Malfoy, I pity you!"

And she really did sound as if she pitied him. Her body showed all signs of defence, but her eyes were soft as she observed Draco's moonlit face.

"No need to pity me, Mudblood," Draco spat as he rushed past her, brushing her shoulder.

_I am in no mood to dirty my hands on that vixen now, _he argued to himself. But if he was honest he would never be able to hurt that girl. Dirty blood or not.

Draco did not have much time to let his mind waver over that incident with Hermione Granger later. He went to bed straight after he had arrived at his dormitory and the next day he attended classed only to find out that Blaise had invited some people over to their dormitory for the evening.

At night Draco, Blaise and their closest friends gathered. Theodore Nott was chatting with Pansy Parkinson animatedly, while she threw Draco longing glances. Both students' cheeks were flushed from the alcohol they were consuming. On Blaise's lap sat Eleanor Delaney. He was stroking her thighs gently, moving his finger a little further up her leg with every stroke. Julian Rosier was watching them with a heated gaze, his vivid, blue eyes flashing to Eleanor's shiny, long legs every now and then. Rosier was a friend of Blaise from seventh year and he and his two classmates Arthur Ackerly and Gabriel Chalfont were as mischievous and witty companions as anyone could wish for. Tonight they had managed to steal some Firewhiskey from the kitchens and while Draco hated its taste he was still grateful for the fog that was created in his brain by sipping it.

He was leaning his back against the headboard of his bed; his silvery hair still wet from the shower he had taken earlier. He was annoyed and his mind would not stop slipping back to the notice he had been reading earlier that day. _I can't possibly go on a trip with that Mudblood for a whole week. It's just not fair! _Draco felt sick at the mere thought of Hermione Granger. _Why can't she just die; die a slow and painful death along with all the other people I'd rather never had met_. Caught up in his thoughts, Draco hardly noticed that his housemates had fallen silent. Chalfont had pulled a vial out of his pocket and was showing it to the others now. There was a sparkling, silvery liquid in the vial and as Draco looked up, wondering what it was, Chalfont answered his question.

"This, my dear Slytherins, is Ferocia. I suppose you've heard of it before?"

Chalfont observed the others who nodded in agreement before he continued.

"Ferocia," he held the vial up for emphasis, "is one of the strongest hallucinogenics that wizard-kind knows of. It's said to blur your mind and send you off into fantastic and surreal dreams."

Pansy's mouth was hanging open in fascination and the others did not look less impressed.

"Where did you get it from?" asked Nott in obvious adoration.

"Nipped it from my father's storage," sneered Chalfont, seemingly self-satisfied.

Draco sat up and watched his friend with interest.

"So? What do you think; shall we try it?" asked Julian Rosier challengingly.

Arthur Ackerly's eyes grew wide with shock, "But it's dangerous. My mother told me that many wizards were sent to St. Mungos after taking Ferocia."

Chalfont nodded, a sly smile playing over his cherub lips, and drawled, "I heard of two people dying from Ferocia this summer." He tried to sound lazy and relaxed, but Draco could not be fooled by his friend's behaviour. Too often had he heard his own voice trying to hide his real emotions. It was obvious that his 'oh-so-daring' Slytherin friends were more than reluctant to take this infamous potion.

"I'll take it first!" announced Draco.

All eyes were on him at once. Blaise was grinning, while Theodore seemed rather envious of Draco's bravery. Only Pansy's squeal told Draco that there was one person in the room that did not appreciate his plan.

"You could die, Draco," pleaded Pansy in a high-pitched voice. The earlier flush from her bony cheeks had vanished and she looked pale and scared.

Draco observed her shortly, "I'm dead as dead can be," he muttered darkly as he reached his hand out and snatched the vial of Ferocia from Chalfont's hand.

He filled some water into his glass and then started to drop the silvery liquid into it. Steam rose from the glass at once, while the water slowly adapted a bluish colour.

"Ten drops," whispered Chalfont excitedly.

"Seven, eight, nine, ten," Draco counted quietly.

Then he passed the vial of Ferocia back to Chalfont, looking at his housemates again. While there was still an uncertain expression on Pansy's face, the others' eyes literally flashed with sparks of excitement, observing Draco's every movement.

Draco glanced at the bluish liquid in his glass for one last time and then emptied it with one big gulp. It took a moment for the drug to take effect, but as it started to work its way into Draco's synapses it was as if a thousand blinding flashlights were pointed at him. The voices of his friends became distant and weak, as if transparent walls were separating Draco from the rest of the world.

He closed his eyes and sank back against his bed. His heart was beating faster than before as a strange warmth spread through his body. Each vein was on fire and his blood was the fuel to feed it. Draco heard distant voices, which told him that his friends were finally – or was it already? – taking the drug themselves. He did not care anymore, though. Nothing mattered now. There was only him, space and an eternity of time left. Grey fog surrounded him as the world started to spin. Draco stumbled and fell backward into the gap, but in the last moment a hand pulled him back. A cold, yet sweaty hand.

Draco gasped and immediately opened his eyes. Pansy was leaning over him. She had crawled up onto his bed and was stroking his flat stomach sensuously. Her eyes were watery and distant, revealing that she had taken Ferocia despite her earlier doubts. Draco stretched out under her touch and purred like a kitten, closing his eyes again.

Pansy drew slow patterns on Draco's oversensitive skin. Her touch felt strange, but was nevertheless the most intense feeling that he had experienced in his life.

Feeding on the moment Draco was sure he would reach perfection soon, but upon opening his eyes he realized that perfection was not the state this ferocia-induced trip had in store for him. It was not Pansy's face that was looking down at him anymore. Over him cowered a pale figure with a youthful face framed with untidy black strands. Pleading brown eyes were staring down at him.

Draco gasped and tried to move away from the skinny body so close to his. The little girl looked terribly familiar.

"No that can not be. You're dead!" croaked Draco, whose throat felt dry all of a sudden. A tiny, inhumanly pale arm was stretching out toward his face, and as Draco tried to move away, panicking, the memories came crushing down on him.

A thousand images raced through his mind as an unbearable noise grew steadily louder. Draco held his breath, realizing that the noise was Lucius' angry voice, bellowing at his little son in fury.

"_What an embarrassment! My own son not only associating with dirty Muggles, but also kissing them behind his father's back! You have dirtied our family name Draco! I am disgusted with you!"_

_Draco saw his own, tear-stained face at the age of eleven. He was kneeling on the floor praying silent prayers for his father to stop. A bruise formed on his young face where his father had hit him. Hit him for the first and only time in his life. Good Gods; had he been scared of his adored father that night._

_Lucius was walking up and down in his study, throwing random insults at his terrified son. Then he stopped and stared at a spot on the floor near Draco. _

_There she was. The pale, little body. The_ _pitch black hair, the pink little lips and those enormous brown eyes. She was shivering and weeping silently. _

_Lucius pointed his wand at her and Draco sprang up, throwing himself at his taller and much stronger father._

"_No father, please! Please don't hurt her!" he choked out between sobs. "I won't do it again ... I ... I didn't know..." But Lucius cut his struggling son off by throwing him at the floor angrily._

"_I am disgusted with you, Draco! She is an unworthy Muggle! She is worthless, and beneath you, son!" he spat out. His eyes were cold as he observed his son mercilessly._

_A wand was lifted and Lucius shouted, "_Crucio!_"_

_The little girl writhed under the pain, screaming out loud. Was there nobody to help? Did nobody hear her?_

_Draco heard his own sobs from the other side of the room. His eleven years old self cowered at the floor, clasping his legs tight to his body, obviously unable to move. _

_Lowering his wand Lucius turned around and observed his son._

"_Do you understand, Draco? She is beneath you."_

_The blond boy sobbed, his eyes blank._

"_Draco? Answer me! Do you understand that Muggles are beneath you?" Lucius' voice sounded deadly and Draco nodded hurriedly._

"_What was that, son?"_

"_Yes." whispered Draco, intimidated._

"_I did not hear you, boy!"_

"_Yes, sir. They are beneath me!" said Draco louder than before._

_A sadistic smile played over Lucius' aristocratic face. He looked rather satisfied now, his anger fading away._

"_They are worthless!"_

"_Yes, sir, they are worthless."_

"_They are not worthy of living!"_

_Draco hesitated momentarily, but then answered, "Yes sir, they are not worthy of living."_

_Lucius smiled openly at his young son now, "Very good."_

_The blond haired man's wand was lifted, the incantation spat out, before the crying boy had even realized what was happening._

"Avada Kedavra_!" echoed Lucius' voice through the room._

_A blinding, green light brightened up the room for a second and when Draco dared to look up the tiny girl's body lay lifeless on the floor._

_It was as if a noose was tightening around Draco's neck. He felt suffocated by the picture before him. She could not be dead! She was not dead! His younger self's body was shaking as Lucius pulled him up on to his feet by his arm. The clasp was tight as eyes like his own bored into his head. _

"_You will never lay hands on dirty blood again, do you understand me, son? I hope you have learned your lesson!"_

_The little boy was shaking and sobbing. His eyes could not yet hide the pain the tiny heart was feeling. Draco _had_ learned his lesson._

Gasping Draco woke up. His heart was running a mile a minute as he uncertainly turned his head to observe the room. Relieved he found that the black haired girl was not there anymore. Silence surrounded him. The boys had gone and only a flickering torch slightly lit up the room. It had to be early morning already. Blaise and Eleanor were fast asleep, lying cuddled together on Blaise's bed and as Draco turned he found Pansy lying next to himself, asleep as well. Draco sighed and sank back down on his bed again. Cold tears were falling down his face. Draco stuck his tongue out and licked the salty liquid from his lips. His head ached as his thoughts slowly returned to the memories he had just lived through again.

The world had shifted more than once on the day Lucius had killed that girl. There had been no way to turn back time from that day on. The little pink, rainbow dreams of a child had shattered within mere seconds. It was not only the little girl that had died on that fatal day. A part of Draco's soul had faded with her. His innocence, his unquestioning love, his compassion, in a glimpse of a moment his childhood had ended. The world had changed and yet it had stayed the same.

The birds had kept singing, the rain had kept falling, the sun had kept shining, but nothing was the same to Draco. His world was in grey. The pain threatened to tear him apart. What sense was there to life? Why were people doomed to die and decay? What difference did he make? Was there salvation from the pain he was suffering? Draco remembered how much he had wished to turn back time then. How he had prayed for the ability to forget about everything that had happened. Time went on and on though, and even as the memory started to blur, as the girl's face started to fade, the pain stayed very real. A part of Draco's heart realised that there was no way to overcome time, to conquer fate. The very pain and anger he was feeling in the depths of his heart were the only proofs that his human heart had not just vanished. The fact that he was hurting so much showed that he was still alive. Still breathing.

The crying boy had bathed in dragon's blood as the pain became unbearable. A skin of horn and stone protected him from the world from then on. To become invulnerable toward the rest of the world had been Draco's only way to keep his soul alive. As a consequence he had become the devil's advocate, slowly turning into the man who had wounded him deadly at the age of eleven. Unable to resist, Draco had given in to all the dark desires presented to him, fulfilling his father's every dream.

There was no way of turning back now, was there? He would go on that trip to Scotland and do whatever would be demanded of him.

Draco turned around and studied Pansy's sleeping face. There was no love, no feeling for her inside him. Her pale skin shimmered beautifully in the red torchlight. She looked peaceful, even fragile, but she held no connection to Draco. She was from another world, like all the others.

Draco felt utterly alone. _'The only thing unbearable is that nothing is unbearable'_, muttered a resigning voice inside his head.

He felt weak and tired, as if he had not slept in days.


End file.
